Places To Do Things (Part I)

I grew up in a small Lutheran congregation- owned teacherage (a teacherage is the home a congregation supplied for its parochial school teacher: just like it supplied a parsonage for its parson.) My home was a part of a several-acres complex which included a parish school, a parsonage, a teacherage, a cemetery, a couple of barns and two plots for vegetable gardens. It was located about a mile from the nearest town (Walburg, Texas) which advertised itself as having a “population of 87 friendly people and one old grouch”.

From my perspective this location provided everything I would ever need to live a happy and productive life, food for body and soul, good people, fun, a medical doctor who carried his little black bag as he visited those who needed him. Any food needed could be grown within walking distance of where it would be consumed, The church, its school, a country store and a saloon supplied all one needed for body and soul, sickness and health, fun and hope. All in all a great place to grow up. Yet I moved on from there to places never dreamed of even when I climbed that big tree in my back yard, stared into that vast Texas expanse of blue and pondered my future.

In the next several blogs I want to reflect on that place and the other places to which my life took me.

PLACES TO EAT As I was growing up eating was, of course, a necessity. But it was also more than that. It was family time, prayer time, teaching time, enjoyment time, family devotions time, social life time. My mouth waters at just the memory of my mother’s fried chicken prepared from roosters freshly slaughtered and fried in lard, mashed potatoes with country cream gravy, fresh corn on the cob, homemade bread, fresh peach cobbler. All of this washed down with sweet iced tea. Nero or Chinese emperors never ate better.

In the days of my youth there were other wonderful places to eat. Although I never ate in a restaurant until well into my teen years, special eating places included wedding bar-b-ques, Even during the depression there was a big feast in connection with any wedding. After the church ceremony we went to the farm home of the bride. There beer and bar-b-que and all the trimmings (especially home made noodles) awaited us, all in sequence. Beer was served by men adorned in white aprons, carrying pitchers and glasses. The bar-b-que, of course came from beef raised just for that wedding celebration and bar-b-qued in pits dug especially for the event. Occasionally the beef was supplemented by a hog or two and once in a great while even by mutton or goat meat; but goat was definitely a third choice. I don’t remember ever having chicken bar-b-que at a wedding as that was reserved for other special meals. The dining tables were long tables all arranged in a big tent made from farm tarpaulins erected especially for the wedding.

There was a definite sequence for seating and serving of guests. They were served in the following order: first the men and the wedding party, then the children and lastly the women. The reception would go on well into the night. As it got closer to midnight the chivary took place with the men banging on plowshares, oil drums, and any other metal that could be found on the farm. They were served their due portion of beer until it was time for “midnight lunch”. That was late at night and included sandwiches and cake. Somewhere in between all this the bride cut and served the wedding cake. No one went home hungry. (Maybe I was too young to notice, but I have no memory of anyone ever getting drunk at these events. Nor do I have any memory of any wine being served.)

The social life of the community centered around family events - baptisms, confirmations, birthdays, marriages, wedding anniversaries and funerals. Each had its prescribed food rituals. One thing was key: there must always be more than just enough. It was all home-made and certain residents became identified as the “best in their field". e.g. a family was famous for its bar-b-que, a woman for her angel food cake, another for her potato salad, another for bread and butter pickles, etc. Glorious!

Later years brought other and very different places at which to eat. I have moved to many wonderful places where having food was more than mere sustenance. Elegant places like Ghaddis in the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong and Windows of the World in New York Twin Towers. Incredible ethnic food included samples from most of the eight major groups of Chinese, all over China, African chicken at the Pusada Inn in Macau, reindeer tartar in Helsinki, charusco in Porto Allegro Brazil, hearty beef borscht in Russia, marvelous hot, yellow mutton curry in Karachi and red curry vegetables in New Delhi, smorgasbords with touches that are just a little different whether in Denmark, Sweden or Norway, tapas in the street-side café’s of Barcelona, jaeger schnitzel in Bonn, and even tacos on the streets of Ensenada. What variety, sensations, subtle hints and mouth-opening flavors, each telling a bit about the place where it was being consumed, always inviting me to try just a little bit more. No wonder even heaven is described as the place where an endless feast will be available!